26. Gabriel

26

GAbrIEL

I don't bother going after Igor. Wherever he's headed, whatever plans he has, they don't matter. Nothing matters except getting back to my family.

I bolt back towards the hotel, texting my driver and calling the pilot, letting him know I need the jet fueled and ready to go back as soon as possible. The next call is to Bella, but there's no answer. No answer from her, or from Agnes, either. I keep trying, over and over again, until the sound of the ringing sets my teeth on edge, all the way to the jet hangar.

No one picks up.

I'm out of the car before it's even fully come to a stop on the tarmac. My bags were left back at the hotel—my clothes and personal items are the last thing I'm worried about. I break into a run as soon as my feet hit the ground, bolting for the jet as I wave to the pilot to get on board.

"I need to get home. Now ."

He nods, disappearing into the cockpit as I drop into the first seat. I call Bella and Agnes both again, but there's no answer. No answer, over and over, until the jet is in the air, and I drop my phone into my lap, closing my eyes as I lean my head back against the seat.

I haven't felt this helpless in years. Not since I watched my first wife die, with nothing I could do to help her. Now I'm on a plane, so far removed from what's happening that I could come back to find them all dead, and there's nothing I can do about it right now. My hands clench into fists as I sit there, nails digging into my palms, as I will the plane to go faster, for time to slow until I can get to my family.

I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have trusted that the mafia was capable of protecting someone who they never really cared about in the first place. Bella has always been disposable to them.

I was meant to protect her. And now?—

The riot of thoughts doesn't quiet. I sit there, muscles coiled tight, getting up and pacing, sitting back down, until the plane touches down at the hangar near the estate. I'm down the steps the minute the door opens.

The car waiting for me isn't one of mine—it's a taxi. No one has answered my calls, and the icy ball of panic that's formed because of that has settled heavily in my gut, leaving me terrified of what I'll find when I get home.

"Stop here," I tell the driver when he's halfway up the long drive, not wanting to risk putting him in any line of fire. I toss a handful of bills at him, jumping out of the car and breaking into a dead run up the uneven path, sweat breaking out along my spine as I run.

I see the front door hanging open before I've reached the front yard. But I don't hear gunshots.

I race up the front drive, just in time to see one of my men step out, gun at his side, clothes spattered with blood. He looks up and sees me, starting to raise his weapon in the split second before he recognizes me, and then he lowers it again.

"Holy fucking shit, Gabriel." The man, who I now recognize as Edgar, looks at me tiredly. "I tried to call you?—"

"I just got off the plane." I stare at him. "What the fuck happened?"

"We've got a house full of dead Bratva, is what happened. You missed the fighting by five—ten minutes? We're about to send men out to look for your family."

"They're not—" Relief washes over me, followed quickly by the fear that something has happened, and they just haven't realized it yet.

"The kids were out with Aldo this morning." Gio walks out, equally blood-spattered, his hair stiff with gore. His hands are bloodied gloves. "Agnes ran as soon as the Bratva broke in. I told her to get out there and warn Aldo and the kids, that we'd cover her and make sure no one followed."

"And Bella?"

Gio's jaw tenses. "I don't know. We haven't seen her. She's not upstairs?—"

"Shit." I push past him, running into the house. The carnage is shocking—there are bodies everywhere, furniture and walls filled with bullet holes, splintered wood, and broken glass crunching underfoot.

My first thought is that if Bella sees this, she'll be heartbroken. So many weeks of work?—

All that matters is that she's alive. This can be rebuilt.

I break into a run, skirting around the bodies, the crunch of glass filling my ears and the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood filling my nose. Two of the Land Rovers are missing out back, and my stomach clenches, hoping that means that Bella took one of them.

The lurching tire tracks that lead away tell me that she almost certainly did.

I jump into the older one, starting it up and slamming it into gear as I follow the curving tracks, the dirt dug up where Bella must have fought to keep control of the car. And then?—

My heart drops into my stomach when I see the accident.

I'm out of the car before I've even fully taken in what's in front of me. The other Land Rover, crashed head-on into a tree, the hood crumpled. I can see the puffy white shape of the airbag, and then, as I get closer—the limp form of the woman in the front seat.

"Bella!" I shout her name, running for the car. I grab the handle, yanking open the door, and she slumps to one side, falling into my arms as I catch her.

Shit . I'm acutely aware that she probably shouldn't be moved, and that I have no idea what injuries she might have sustained, but the weight of her body falls against me, and my only choice is to carry us both down to the ground.

"Bella." My chest tightens as I look down at her, her hair tangled around her face, a bruise blossoming on her forehead, on her cheek, blood running down from her nose. She's passed out cold, and the only thing that tells me that she's still alive is the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the slow pulse that I feel under my fingertips when I press them to the side of her throat.

I fumble for my phone, calling Gio as I cradle Bella against me. "I need help," I shout as soon as he picks up, the phone held in one hand as I brush her hair away from her face with the other. "I found Bella. She wrecked one of the cars, trying to get away. Get someone down here so we can get her to a hospital."

I only vaguely hear Gio's answer. I can feel tears on my cheeks, and it feels as if it's hard to breathe. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, my fingers brushing against her forehead. "Please be okay. I can't do this again. I can't lose someone else I love—I love you, Bella. I should have told you before I left. I should never have left at all—" The words spill out, tumbling over each other as I hold her against my chest.

I feel her breath stutter, hear a low, soft moan of pain. Her eyelids flutter for just a second, and my breath catches in my throat as I cup her face against my palm. "Bella? Can you hear me? I love you, Bella. Hang on. Gio is bringing a car—we're going to get you to a hospital. Just hold on?—"

I repeat it, over and over, as I feel her go limp against me again. And I cling to her, hoping with everything in me that it's not too late.

That I haven't lost Bella before I've even really had a chance to have her.

—

The trip to the hospital is a blur. Gio helps me get her into the car, telling me as we do that Edgar and a few more of the men found Agnes, Aldo, Cecelia, and Danny sheltering in the stables. They're safe, and staying in the large office there, until the worst of the carnage in the house can be cleaned up.

I hold Bella for the entire ride to the hospital. She doesn't open her eyes again, or move, or make a sound. Her shallow breathing is the only thing that tells me for certain that she's still alive.

She's taken to surgery as soon as we get checked in. I end up in the waiting room, fighting back the flood of memories of other hospital waiting rooms, of waiting for news about Delilah, of the heartbreak that all of that ended in. I try to think of better memories, of waiting for news about the births of my children, the utter joy that those days ended in. I try to think of the possibility of happiness, of everything being okay, but it's hard to hope for it. It's hard not to think of how much worse it will all feel if I allow myself to hope for the best, and the worst happens anyway.

Agnes calls at one point, offering to come and wait with me, but I tell her to stay with Cecelia and Danny. I don't want them here, waiting and worrying about Bella—I'd rather have them stay at the bed and breakfast that Gio took them to, surrounded by security and comfortable.

I told Gio, before he left, to track down Igor by whatever means necessary. I want him dead. Whatever the consequences of that, he's broken the truce first. And I refuse to leave him alive to continue haunting my family.

He made it very clear, today, that he won't stop. A promise, a piece of paper, a handshake over a truce—none of that will be enough. He's not a man honorable enough to make a deal with.

I'm going to put an end to this, as soon as I know Bella is safe.

It feels like hours pass before a doctor comes out to the otherwise empty waiting room. I'm on my feet the instant I see him walking towards me, and he gives me a reassuring smile that instantly slows the furious beat of my pulse.

"She's going to live," he says calmly. "She came through surgery with no difficulties. Her leg was broken, but it will heal cleanly now that we've set it, and repaired the small bit of internal damage caused by the accident. She will be completely fine once she's had a chance to rest and heal—and the baby is fine as well."

I feel all the blood drain from my face as I drop back down into the seat, staring at the doctor. "You're—you have the right patient? Bella D'—Bella Esposito?"

The doctor's mouth turns up lightly in an amused smile. "Yes, I have the right patient. And you are Gabriel Esposito?"

I nod, feeling a numb wave of shock roll over me. "I am."

"Then congratulations." The doctor's smile spreads. "Your wife and child are both safe, and will be fine." He chuckles. "I take it this comes as a surprise."

"You could say that." I run a hand through my hair. "Can I see her?"

"In the morning. She's resting, and she hasn't woken yet. She hasn't even come out of the recovery ward yet. Tomorrow, you can come back and see her."

I'm tempted to tell the doctor that I'm going to see her regardless, that I'll wait until she's back in a room, and then I want to see my wife. But just as I open my mouth to argue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I reach for it, and see Gio's name on the screen.

"Give me a second." I get up, feeling slightly off-balance, and walk towards a nearby window as I answer, far enough away that the doctor can't hear my conversation.

"We have Igor," Gio says without preamble. "We tracked him to a nearby location, presumably waiting for Bella to be brought to him. We took out his remaining men and have him cuffed. Where do you want?—"

"Bring him to the estate. One of the buildings far away from the house." My jaw tightens. "I'll be there shortly."

I shove my phone in my pocket, walking back to the doctor. "I'll be back first thing. If anything changes, call me."

"Of course, Mr. Esposito." The doctor inclines his head slightly, turning to leave, as I stride away in the opposite direction.

Cold fury burns in my gut as I drive back to the estate. I've never been a violent man. I've never harmed anyone. But there's no doubt in my mind that I'm capable of doing what needs to be done when it comes to Igor Lasilov. No doubt that I won't regret it—that I'll even enjoy it.

And after what he's done to my family, I feel no shame about that.

The house is dark when I drive past it, the estate silent. All of the staff have been evacuated, those who didn't immediately put in their notice and return home put up in rooms in town. The estate will remain empty, until we can clean up and repair the damage.

I see the black SUV parked near one of the outbuildings at the very back of the estate, far from where anyone might see or hear anything amiss. I put the car in park, step out into the night, and stride towards the door.

Gio is standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He raises an eyebrow as I approach. "He's awake," he says gruffly, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the toe of one boot. "And he's all yours, boss. Whatever you want to do with him." He smirks. "I can give you some ideas, if you want to make it slow."

I think about it for a long moment, standing there in the darkness. A part of me does. A part of me wants to take him apart piece by piece, for tormenting my family, for frightening my children, for threatening my wife and daughter with incomprehensible horrors. But for all the pain I could inflict on him, I have a feeling that he would get satisfaction from it.

He would take pleasure in the fact that he had managed to turn me into someone that I never was before this.

I shake my head. "I don't think it needs to be slow," I say finally. "I just think he needs to know why."

There's one overhead light illuminating the space. Igor is on his knees, his hands cuffed behind his back, a dried trickle of blood running from one side of his mouth. He looks up as I walk in and spits on the floor, a sneer on his lined face.

"You don't have the balls, svoloch ," he spits out. "A nobody, an underworld torgovets , piece of shit." He spits again, this time near the boot of one of the men surrounding him. The man standing there doesn't flinch. "Who do you think you are?"

"The man who is going to kill you." I take the gun Gio holds out to me, holding it at my side as I step just in front of Igor, looking down at him. "Not slowly, although it was recommended to me otherwise."

"Because you don't have the guts." Igor looks up at me, that defiant sneer still on his face.

I grit my teeth, that well of rage that I've been trying to stifle since the night Bella told me what happened to her boiling in my blood. "Because I don't think it matters how long it takes, or how much it hurts. What matters is that you know why."

Igor chuckles darkly. "So you shoot an old man, on his knees. Hands zip-tied behind his back. Like a coward. Sukin syn . Son of a whore." There's no fear in his face, only mocking laughter. "Afraid of what I might do if you let me free, svoloch ?"

"Fine." I let out a sharp, hissing breath. I want this over with. I want to go back to the hospital, to Bella, to know that this is behind us. I want this man to stop taking up space in our lives. "Gio, cut him loose."

"Boss—" Gio glances at me, and I turn sharply to look at him, leveling him with a dark stare.

"Don't question me," I grit out between my teeth. " Cut him loose."

Gio nods brusquely, pushing around the other men to walk behind Igor. He leans down, pulling a hunting knife out of his belt as he reaches down and saws abruptly through the plastic zipties holding Igor's hands behind his back. "There," he growls, taking a step back.

I'll give Igor credit—for a man in his fifties, and one that my men likely didn't treat gently on the way here, he's more agile than I would have imagined. He's on his feet in a flash, a fist swinging out before I can move out of the way.

It connects with my jaw—not the hardest punch I've ever taken, but one that disorients me for a moment. I hear the click of every other gun in the room as all of my men aim at Igor at once, and I shake my head, rubbing my jaw as I look grimly at the other man.

"Don't shoot," I tell them flatly. "Fine. You want a fight?" I hand my gun back to Gio, grip first. "We'll work this out. The end will be the same."

"You, bleeding on the floor while I go and find your wife?" Igor sneers, his face hard and impassive as he shucks off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He reaches down, shoving up his shirtsleeves, revealing arms that are still muscled despite his age. "Or should I go and look for your daughter, first? I have a buyer for her, da ? A man overseas. Maybe I should leave you alive, so you know I've taken them. Or let you bleed out, so you can think about it for a while."

Every word makes that anger coiling inside of me cinch tighter, and I narrow my eyes, letting out a sharp breath. "I have ten men just in this room. You're not leaving here alive, Igor. No matter what you do to me."

He sighs heavily. "Maybe that's true. So then I'll take you down with me."

This time, I'm ready for the punch. I dodge, years of practice activating my muscles without a thought, my body moving automatically to escape the blow. I step to one side, swinging, a hard punch to Igor's kidney as I move around him.

He groans, stumbling forward. He's agile and still strong, but not fast—though he turns and swings again, connecting with my shoulder as I move just a bit too slowly, my hand aching from the blow.

I'm too used to fighting in a gym, with wrapped hands or gloves. Even years ago, when I occasionally fought other boxers, or trained with others, I wasn't fighting bare-knuckle. My hand throbs, and Igor chuckles, circling me again.

"You're soft, svoloch . A man who does not have to live in violence doesn't know what to do when it comes to call." Igor swings again, and I dodge, but narrowly. He moves in, closing the gap between us, and gets a hard punch to my ribs.

I cough, taking a step back, and Igor laughs. "You go down, you think they can kill me before I kill you?"

"We'll find out, won't we?" I suck in a breath, and focus. This is a fight I can win. Not one I'll come out of completely unscathed, but one that I'm entirely capable of winning. And I'm not going to let Igor bait me into taking a beating.

I close in on him, fast. A punch to the side, an uppercut to the jaw, leaving him reeling. He swings, connecting with my ribs again, but I have him up against the proverbial ropes now, and I don't let up. I've played his game, but I'm not going to keep drawing this out.

Another punch to the jaw, to the side of the head. Igor stumbles to one side, hits me hard in the back, and I pivot, kicking out one foot to catch his leg and sweep them out from under him.

He lands hard on his back, wheezing.

When he tries to get up, I let him. His face is bloody, bruised, and he spits out a mouthful of blood onto the floor. "Another round, svoloch ?" he says, grinning a bloody smile, and I shake my head.

"Die with some dignity, Lasilov."

He takes a step forward, spitting more of the blood towards me as he swings again. I grab his fist, wrenching his arm back as I hold my other hand out, and without even having to look, I feel the weight of the gun in my palm as Gio hands it to me.

I raise the gun, pressing it against Igor's temple, my other hand still gripping his fist, twisting it behind his back. We're standing close, nearly nose to nose, and I look straight into his eyes as I speak.

"You are here because you walked into my home. You threatened my children. You took away a part of their innocence, a sense of safety, that they can never now get back. You traumatized Bella, as if what your son did to her wasn't enough. And then you took her, and you threatened to force her into your bed. To bear your child. You threatened to sell my daughter to men who would harm her in unthinkable ways."

I lean forward, digging the gun in a little harder. "I tried to let the don handle this matter. I tried to let you and those of your ilk come to a peaceable resolution. But I was right to think that you can't be trusted. I was right to think that you are nothing but an animal, selfish and rabid, thinking only of his own desires. And I know what is to be done with an animal who has tasted blood and only thinks of more."

Igor laughs, as if he isn't looking his own death in the face. "And what is that, svoloch ?"

My finger tightens on the trigger. "You put them down."

The sound of the shot leaves my ears ringing. Igor jerks sideways, blood spilling down his head as his body drops down to the floor, all of the life gone from him. And I stand there, the gun still in my hand, looking down at the first man I ever killed.

I wondered what I would feel, if it came to this. I've worked with men who are killers for many years, but I've never been one myself. I wondered if I would regret it, after.

But I don't. All I feel is relief that it's over. That whatever comes next, Bella will be safe. My children will be safe. My family will no longer be hunted by a man who sought to take what was never meant to be his.

I hand Gio the gun, exhaustion sweeping over me. "Make sure the body is disposed of," I tell him curtly.

And then I walk back out to my waiting car, to drive back to the hospital to see my wife.